Fill my Emptiness
by BucketsOfCrazyLove
Summary: You're alone and what once filled you is now as empty as you are. Because no one's full without having been empty, and no one's full without filling someone's emptiness... Spamano. AU cause I like using their human names. Kinda angsty-ish. Aaaaand, seme!Romano, uke!Spain, smut.


**A/N: This is what I'm actually doing instead of writing the fourth chapter of my Bad Touch Trio multi-chaptered fic. I'm sorry. I'm terribly sorry, but I couldn't help myself, okay? I had to write Spamano angst. I HAD to.**

Emptiness is such an ugly word. Such an ugly trick of language. When something is empty, when one hears that, they instantly think that it needs filling. So everyone wants to erase emptiness, really. It's doubtful that there's someone that _likes_ their hollowness. It's doubtful that someone likes how their soul resides alone in the shell of their bodies. But most, most of the empty ones, can handle it.

But sometimes... Sometimes it's unbearable. Sometimes you're full, and then, in a fateful, bitter instant, you're empty, hollow, and what filled you once, is now gone forever, hating you, leaving you unprotected to the calamities that are sadness and pain.

Or that's what you think, at least. Because most times what filled you is right next to you, and neither of you know. What filled you is as cold and alone as you, crying for you, thinking you hate them. What filled you is now as empty as you are. Because no one's full without having been empty, and no one's full without filling someone's emptiness...

...

Lovi's POV

Lovino stared at the pillow next to his own as the rays that escaped the curtains hit it and splayed bright fingers across its fabric. He had been staring at that damn pillow for the past twenty minutes and he was about to hit a record of twenty five, when he abruptly got up and headed to the bathroom. Just like everyday. Right? Because nothing was different, all was right in the world, the sun shone, the birds chirped and Lovino still hated his damn life.

He reached for his toothbrush and toothpaste, purposefully avoiding making eye contact with himself in the mirror. He didn't really need to see the fading black bags under his eyes or the angry red that stained his eyes. He brushed his teeth silently, staring intently and very purposely at the sink. When he was done, he placed the toothbrush back in place very precisely, straining his hands so they didn't shake. He exited the bathroom, but on the way out, his eyes _did _catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror and he averted his gaze instantly, wincing at his reflection. He looked like he hadn't slept for a month, his hair was a tangled mess, and his eyes were hollow. Like they were the eyes of a dead fucking fish.

Lovino snarled at himself and went to the kitchen. He made himself some coffee and sat down, sipping at the black liquid. The phone rang, but Lovino figured whatever the bastard-whoever he might be- wanted to say to him, it could fucking wait. He didn't really care either. He didn't really care for anything these days.

His head was hurting like a bitch from yesterday. Bad idea, drinking himself to stupor. Very bad idea. Hangovers were fucking annoying. Lovino rubbed at his temples, bowing his neck, his forehead touching the tabletop. He turned his head a bit to the side, keeping his eyes closed for a second. What the hell, maybe if he went back to sleep, then he'd wake up and all this would be a nightmare.

After ten minutes his eyes snapped open, and everything was still there. The red table cloth under his forehead, his hands shaking in tight fists, himself alone in his house. He turned his head to the side and stared blindly at the steaming cup in front of his eyes, not really seeing it, not really caring that the coffee was going to grow cold.

Abruptly, he got up, like his body had a mind of its own, and he downed the rest of his cooling coffee. He placed the cup in the sink and ran the water, starting to do the dishes. His went through the motions mechanically, not really noticing when the water grew icily cold. The dishes and glasses were so noticeably lesser without that bastard in the house. Ha! So, there! He got rid of the fucking bastard, so he had less dishes to fucking wash! That's right.

Lovino ground his jaw and made a fist out of his numb fingers around a spoon. He breathed there for a second, trying to find his cool. Because nothing was wrong, dammit! Everything was just fucking fine. He tossed the spoon with the rest of the clean ones, and shut off the water, numbly wiping his hands on a towel.

He stared at his fingers, his sight going fuzzy and then clearing again, like he had wiping shields over his eyes. His fingers weren't as good as they could have been. _He _wasn't as good as he could have been. He wasn't Feliciano, he wasn't happy all the fucking time. He wasn't away with the fairies and in his own little bubble of a world, he didn't "Ve~" and smile at everyone. Oh, no, no, no. He was the opposite of his brother, and people knew that, saw that, called him the darker one, the swearing one, the bitchy one, the annoying one, the less cute one(yes, that was that fuck-faced bearded bastard).

He had always been _less_ than his baby brother. And now he was absolutely, positively nothing, while Feliciano had all he wanted in the world. And Lovino... Lovino was so fucking jealous of him and his happiness. Even if his "happiness" was a potato-licking freak bastard.

The phone rang again, snapping him out of his thoughts. He grudgingly walked over to it and snapped in the speaker "What the fuck do you want, damn bastard?"

"Ve~ Lovi, ciao! How are you? Have you cooked yet? Have you made any pasta? Cause I thought maybe it would be nice if I came over today with Luddy and we all ate together! It's a great idea, si?" Lovino shook his head, even though Feli couldn't see him. "No. No fucking way that potato bastard is setting foot in my house. Fucking no."

"Aww, but come on, Lovino, Luddy is a very, very nice guy, and he's kind and proud and I love him and his eyes are so bl-"

"If you say one more word about the Kraut, I'm hanging up on your sorry ass."

"But why, Lovi? I know you really don't like Ludwig, but if you got to know him you'd-"

"Hate him even fucking more. No, Feliciano. No. You won't have dinner at my place today. I fucking can't, dammit! I can't stand it..." After that the other end of the line went silent for two seconds.

"Lovi... I'm sorry. I'll call another day, si? Ciao, Lovi, ti amo!" And _toooot_. He hang up. Lovino placed the phone back at its holder carefully and pretended this hadn't happened, when internally a maelstrom had gone off, tearing everything in its wake. He sat down on the sofa and stared at the black screen of the television. Couldn't his brother have called at a worse time? He wanted to bring his fucking _boyfriend_ over while Lovino was–

Shit! No, don't fucking think about that, dammit! Lovino bit his bottom lip and hugged his chest. He had to do something to take his mind off of things. So he dragged himself to the kitchen, taking some tomatoes out of the fridge and placing them on the counter. Methodically, he washed them, and took out a knife. He did all that, his mind drawing a blank, trying to avoid thinking of bright green and radiant smiles and warm flesh a tad bit darker than his own. But, eventually, as he concentrated so much on _not_ thinking about shit, he managed slicing his finger.

He winced and ran water on it. He stared at the counter and the half cut tomato on it, and went back to trying to cut the whole damn thing. But again, his brain failed him and he cut through his finger again. He jumped and snarled. "Why won't this fucking tomato behave?" And the red fruit went flying across the kitchen and landed with a miserable _slap_ against the wall.

And Lovino broke down.

He rested his palms on the counter, his shoulders hunched, his head hanging, as ugly, gasping sobs tore from somewhere deep inside his chest. "Fuck!" He fisted his fingers in his hair, pulling at it. Why? Why? He slid to the floor slowly, his legs giving way under him, his knees not able to hold him up anymore. He curled in on himself, bringing his knees up to his chest, and hiding his face in his hands. His whole body shook.

He couldn't fucking believe this. He was just so fucking pathetic. Pathetic. He couldn't do this to himself again. He couldn't love again. Because each and every time it happened he was left with a jagged scar lain over his heart. This time though... This time he didn't know if he had any heart left.

Why did he leave like that? Why did he just fucking leave?! It must have been something Lovino did, for sure. Of course. He screwed things up. Again. Why couldn't he be more like Feliciano? Maybe Antonio would want him then. Why did he...? "A–Ant-tonio..." He was gasping his name by now, his sobs interrupting his words, and he hated it.

Lovino sucked in a breath quickly when the door banged open and the closed. It was probably Feliciano. So, he didn't do anything. He just remained there, curled up against the cupboards under the sink, clutching to his knees as he sobbed and shook and whimpered Antonio's name.

A surprised gasp from the doorway of the kitchen and then. Heaven.

A warm body was right next to him, strong arms wrapping around him, a mouth pressed against his ear. "Lovi. Lovi, stop crying. Why are you crying, mi amor? Stop, stop crying, please. I'm here, I'm here now. Mi vida, stop crying..." But Lovino couldn't stop, he couldn't stop now.

His teeth clattering together, he settled his body in Antonio's embrace and clutched at his shirt, tangling his fingers in the fabric. "Ssh, Lovi, ssh. Antonio's here now. Don't cry." Lovino hiccuped ruthlessly, trying to find his voice. "You b-b-ba-bas-taa-rd-d! Wh–why d-did you l- leeeaaave?!"

Antonio ran his hand through Lovino's hair. "Didn't you receive the message? I told you I was going to Gilbert's for a week. I tried coming back as fast as possible, but you know how Francis and Gilbert are. But if I knew my Lovi would be so worried I wouldn't have gone at all."

Lovino stared wide-eyed up at the Spaniard. Shit... He'd thrown his cellphone at the wall when potato bastard had called him. So, this, this whole thing, this unending depression of the last four days of his life had been a stupid misunderstanding? Shit, motherfucker!

He sprang up and glared at Antonio. "Che cazzo, you idiotic bastard?! No, I didn't get your damn fucking message! I thought you'd fucking dumped me, you fuck! Damn bastard! I nearly fucking–"

Lovino cut himself off before too many words escaped his treacherous mouth. Antonio got up and coming to stand in front of the angry Italian, he cupped his face in his hands. "Lovi what are you talking about? How could I ever dump you? I love you so, so, so much, mi Lovi. Tú eres mi vida, Lovino."

Lovino stared at him. Just stared. Then he was stepping closer to him, crashing their lips together in an attempt to get as close as possible. He mumbled things in the kiss as well, the words burned raw from the scrap of teeth and the collision of tongues. "You–mhmm–dumb-ass. I can't fucking believe you did this to me! I hate you."

Antonio laughed against his lips, the clear sound ringing in Lovino's ears, and kissed him back just as fiercely as he had. "No, you don't. You really don't." Lovino snarled at him, pressing him against the kitchen table, his hands on his shoulders.

"Fine, bastardo, I don't hate you. But you're still paying for it."

Tonio's POV

Lovino pressed his palm against Antonio's chest, his olive green eyes glowing. He seemed downright dangerous. But he was still cute. "Lovi, you're so cute right now!"

Lovino narrowed his eyes at him. "Don't call me fucking cute, Antonio! I'm not _cute_! Here, I'll show you cute, damn bastard!" And Antonio's back collided with the tabletop and he was laying there with Lovi crawling on top of him.

Antonio watched with wide eyes as Lovino started kissing his way from his jaw to his neck, leaving behind a trail of tingles."Lovi." His eyes met Antonio's and he smirked , biting at his jugular.

"You're never going to leave me again, Antonio. Never." Antonio shook his head, still staring in Lovino's eyes, his body pinned to place not only by the man on top of him, but struck by the realisation of how truly beautiful Lovino looked right then, his eyes staring into his own, his lips red, his hair mused. "Lovi" he whispered again, bringing his hand up slowly to run his fingertips over the Italian's smooth cheek. "Jámas. Never. I'll never leave you."

And then hands were everywhere, his own, Lovino's, on their bodies, his own, Lovino's, and lips glided together, dancing and twisting together. And clothes fell to the floor, abandoned them, left them naked, and Antonio ran his hands down Lovino's back, loving the feel of his flesh against his palms and fingertips, the feel of his silky lips pressing against his own.

"Más, Lovino, más. A- and closer." Antonio laced their fingers and with his other hand brought their foreheads together, kissing Lovino again, and again, and again, and it was never too much, it was always lesser than he wanted and he had to get closer and closer and closer...

"Lovino. Lovino, please." Lovino nodded. "Wait you bastard, I have to go ge–" "No. No, don't go, stay here. Don't go. Lovi. It–it doesn't matter." And Antonio surged upwards, their chests colliding, and wrapped his legs around Lovino, pressing him as close as he could get. But it _still_ wasn't close _enough_.

But, no, no, then, Lovino was pushing his now wet fingers against him, and he arched his back, pushing back. "Lovi, Lovi, Lovi..." Lovino pushed inside him slowly like he'd break, but Antonio... It wasn't enough for Antonio. He rocked their bodies together, biting his bottom lip, straining to keep his eyes open so he could watch Lovino's expression, his parted lips, his flushed red cheeks, and his eyes, God, his eyes... Pools of green lust and desperation and _everything._

They moved then, together, in sync, and they were now close enough, barely a gap of air between them. "Te amo, Lovi. Te amo." Lovino gasped again, slamming inside him, making him arch and moan and writhe. "Ti amo troppo, bastardo. Ti amo troppo."

Antonio's whole world was going fuzzy, his body shook uncontrollably. Arching his neck, his hands clutching the tablecloth in fists, he let Lovino do whatever he wanted to his body, let him take him completely, because that's all he wanted. All he _needed. _Because he was whole, he was full, he had everything.

**Yes, people, reverse!Spamano it is. 'Cause my bestie adores seme!Romano. Anyway, translation time now, cause I can't NOT put foreign languages in my fics. Serioulsy, I can't.**

**-Che cazzo:What the fuck (Romano's second favourite phrase after "damn bastard") **

**-Tú eres mi vida: You are my life (Antonio is such a bloody sweetheart...)**

**-Jámas: Never**

**-Más: More**

**-Te amo (the whole freaking world and Buddha knows that one but anyway): I love you**

**-Ti amo troppo: I love you too **

**Ta da! I'm done! That's all folks!** **(And again. Sorry I was writing this instead of updating!)**


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